


On the Importance of Hobbies

by sinaddict



Category: Profiler (TV 1996)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:00:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28295694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinaddict/pseuds/sinaddict
Summary: John advises George on the importance of hobbies.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 3
Collections: Profiler Fans - Holiday 2020





	On the Importance of Hobbies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bittersweet325](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittersweet325/gifts).



> Happy holidays! I hope you enjoy.

“I feel like I’m getting too old for this,” George Fraley stared at the sleek screen in front of him with tired apathy and wondered if the throbbing in his left temple was a sign he needed to talk to his doctor about his blood pressure again. “Why are there so many years you have to work before retirement?”

“Technically, you could retire,” John Grant offered from across the table, in between bites of a breakfast that would have given George pause at 25, much less pushing 60. Another sign he was getting too old, George mused, was seeing a plate of bacon, eggs, and sausage as a pile of cholesterol. John continued, fork in hand with an enormous bite of heart attack halfway to his mouth as his gaze darted back and forth between George and his phone. “Do what the kids are doing now: go tour the world and take selfies. Post videos on the new FlimFlam or whatever.”

“That’s just it. The new whatever,” George gestured vaguely toward his own phone screen. “I feel like I’m getting too old for this.”

John’s attention visibly shifted away from the phone and locked on him. “How do you mean?”

“Last night I posted the holiday social media warning about scams--” George began.

“Oh, no,” John interjected, dropping his fork in abject horror. “You promised me--you promised us all last year--that you’d let the interns handle it this year.”

“--and if my phone wasn't permanently on silent, I would have been up all night,” George finished before registering John’s words. “That would be cruel to the interns. They have no power to call a moron a moron without getting in trouble.”

“Yeah, but they’re a lot more patient with morons than you are,” John smirked before loading his fork up again and glancing back at his phone. “Any Nigerian princes so far?”

“You can laugh, but I still had to have a serious talk with the 46-year-old wife of an agent who gave their bank details to somebody claiming to be from the IRS. For the third time.” George sighed. “I feel like a dinosaur who has been around since the invention of the internet at this point. I know every scam there is, but I cannot for the life of me figure out the point of TikTok.”

John rolled his eyes. “That’s because you don’t understand the point of wasting time in general.”

George looked morosely at the cup of coffee in front of him. He’d only had half of it, but the old familiar heartburn creeping up his esophagus told him that had been half too much. “Maybe you’re right. Rich has been on me about needing a hobby.”

“He’s right. You stare at a screen all day, then go home and stare at a different screen all night,” John waved an arm in the general direction of their usual waitress. To George’s knowledge, the woman never said a word to a single customer, but seemed to have a telepathic link to what everybody wanted. She nodded at John, turned on her heel, and disappeared through the double doors into the kitchen. Satisfied, John continued, “you haven’t talked to me about anything but work in years. Do you talk to him about anything else?”

The question startled George. He and Rich certainly didn’t have any problems--he couldn’t think of anything that seemed different between them lately. But John was right. “Maybe I do need a hobby. But I hate golf.”

John furrowed his brow. “It doesn’t have to be golf. Not everybody who retires plays golf. Besides, it’s expensive. And boring.”

“Don’t I want a hobby that’s boring?”

“Not one that’s boring to you,” John advised sagely as he began clearing the empty dishes to the side of the table. George might think him an expert if he hadn’t seen John bullshit such sage advice on more than one occasion. “It’s fine if it’s boring to other people.”

“I don’t know if I even really have the energy for a hobby,” George demurred, watching John scrupulously stack and fit plates and sauce cups into a tidy pile. “I’m almost 60. What am I going to do, start running marathons? That’s not relaxing.”

“You like to read.”

“But it mostly puts me to sleep.”

“You could take up painting.”

“There is absolutely no room in our house safe enough from cats to have wet paint laying around.”

John rolled his eyes. “Come on, now. You’re trying to be difficult. If this is what you’re like at home, no wonder Rich wants you to find a hobby.” Tilting his head slightly, a thought clearly occurring to him, he continued, “Are you familiar with the phrase ‘Netflix and chill’?”

“I’m not completely immune to pop culture,” George replied dryly, a smile tugging at his lips. “We rather enjoy that one.”

“Yeah, don’t we all after 40,” John laughed. “But seriously, George. You’re acting like it’s all downhill from here. Look at this as your time to figure out your plan for retirement. Not financially, but what are you going to do with all that time?”

George sat back in his seat. Every once in a while, John did manage to dispense pearls of wisdom. Retirement had always been such a far-off goal, something idealized and fun to think about in the same way that winning the lottery was fun to think about. “I have no earthly idea.”

“What have you always wanted to do, but you just can’t find the time for?” John prompted. “I mean, you usually don’t like being in crowds or meeting a ton of new people, so you probably don’t want to start taking cruises or anything.”

“I get seasick. And Rich can’t swim.”

“Right, so something low-key that you can do with Rich sometimes,” John mused before his attention shifted abruptly. “Oh, yes, that was exactly what I was thinking!”

George turned to see the waitress approaching them with a ridiculously stacked cheeseburger, a basket of french fries the size of a small mixing bowl, and a milkshake. “How do you still eat like this?” he asked, tone somewhere between admiration and jealousy. “You just had a breakfast platter!”

“I spent two hours at the gym this morning,” John shrugged, sizing up the burger as the waitress placed it in front of him. “Rock climbing takes less weight lifting and more cardio. I haven’t done this much running since I was in the field in my 30s. Thanks, this is perfect!”

The waitress nodded again, glanced at George for the barest hint of a second, and set a small plate in front of him as she walked away. “I don’t need--” he tried, but she was already gone.

“Of course you do,” John advised cheerfully as he dumped ketchup on a side dish for his fries. “Try a bite. I guarantee you that you will eat the whole thing. She’s never wrong.”

George sighed. The small chocolate waffle topped with a strawberry, blueberries, and whipped cream was unlikely to make his heartburn any worse, at least. The fork cut through the waffle with a satisfying crunch to the outside, but melted into sweet chocolate at the first bite. The berries added a tartness that countered the sugary whipped cream. It was delicious.

Rich loved waffles, George remembered suddenly. Even though they were a pain in the ass to make, George had worked hard to perfect learning how to make them just so that he could make Rich breakfast in bed when he proposed.

He hadn’t made waffles in years.

“Maybe I need to start cooking more,” George mused aloud, then took a moment to savor another bite. “I used to cook for Rich all the time.”

“There you go!” John’s grin lit up a room in a way that few other people George had ever met could. “If you start throwing dinner parties, I’ll be there.”

“When have we ever needed a party to have you over for dinner, John?” George smiled, a warm silence stretched a beat between them as they ate. As he finished the dessert, he looked back to his old friend. “Thank you. I think I really needed this reality check.”

“That’s what I’m here for, George.” John gave him a small smile before he clearly couldn’t resist cracking a joke. “And hey, taking up cooking increases your chances of those ‘Netflix and chill’ nights, too.”

“Trust me, I don’t need to worry about my chances,” George replied with a sly wink and a grin.


End file.
